


Brotherly Love

by WandersUnderStarlight



Series: Perennial [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 11:03:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15047444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandersUnderStarlight/pseuds/WandersUnderStarlight
Summary: Sometimes, brothers are just the worst.





	Brotherly Love

**Author's Note:**

> More Long Patrol 'verse.   
> Maybe now my muse will go back to An Offer He Can't Refuse.

:Um, Prowl?: Smokescreen’s voice was strangely even and controlled over the comm. :There’s a report of a disturbance outside the EH… and I think you might want to be the one to go out and, um, deal with it?: The tiny hitch at the end of his glyphs informed Prowl that his former trainee was holding in laughter.

The situation was likely not threatening, then. Prowl sighed and indulged his student. :And why should I do that?:

He could practically hear the grin. :Because Jazz is out there in the middle of it.:

Prowl was up out of his chair and halfway across his office before even his processor had even registered that he’d moved.

:On my way.:

He chose to nobly ignore Smokescreen’s badly stifled chortle.

The sight that presented itself to his optics outside the door to the Enforcer Headquarters Tower caused a confusing mash of protective instincts and fond annoyance in his processor. There on the sidewalk was his, usually light-sparked, new companion and an unknown Polyhexian yelling and trilling at each other in a strange, melodic dialect while gesticulating wildly. Off to the side, a yellow and white Iaconian watched the proceedings with embarrassed amusement.

Suddenly the other Polyhexian cuffed Jazz soundly over the helm and then pulled him into a relieved-looking hug. Prowl’s processor drew parallels to this behavior against similar that he, himself, had witnessed personally. Jazz had spoken to Prowl of his brother. And these were the actions of a worried sibling. (Barricade had growled at him for cycles the first time Prowl had injured himself while chasing a suspect.)

Prowl cleared his vents.

The unknown mech jumped and glared suspiciously at him while still clutching Jazz. The blue visored mech broke out into a grin from his place in the half-hug-half-helmlock.

“Prowl! I was comin’ by the Precinct t’ drop off some goodies I made ya an’ maybe ask ya out t’ lunch when I got waylaid by _somebot_ ” Jazz shot the other Polyhexian a look, “who showed up outta nowhere.”

“I told ya I was comin’ out on th’ first transport, ya glitch!” The mech finally let go of Jazz and took a small step out of his personal space.

“Anyway! This is Ricochet, my pain-in-th’-aft brother, and,” he motioned to the Iaconian, “Concord, his saintly conjunx.”

“Nice to meet you,” the Iaconian said pleasantly.

Ricochet got a worrying glint in his orange visor and stepped forward very obviously sizing the Praxian up. Prowl fought to keep his doorwings neutral instead of flaring them in a slightly threatening display like his processor was telling him to.

“Ya’re th’ mech tha’ rescued m’ brother?”

“Yes.”

“An’ now ya’re datin’ ‘im.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Ric!” “Ricochet!” Jazz and Concord’s voices overlapped. The former exasperated, the latter disapproving.

“No. ‘E ‘as t’ tell me. Is it some sorta leftover code or do ya actually care ‘bout ‘im?”

Ah, this must be the, ‘You hurt my brother, I’m going to slag you’ talk.

Prowl looked over Ricochet’s shoulder and into Jazz’s beautiful blue visor. He could feel his face soften into a smile. This was an easy question. He already struggled through figuring out the answer orns ago. 

After waking from the hard reboot, he’d spent a long time meditating and piecing together the fragments of what was likely his very last Long Patrol. 

The hazy memory of finding the half-frozen mech and taking him back to the outpost _(cold/territory anomaly distress/vulnerable den/protect)_. 

Caring for him _(fuel/warmth defend)_. 

His waking _(happy! companion...Jazz fuel/provide safeguard)_. 

A shift in priority trees _(shiny/sleek/strength potential play? CHASE! CATCH! mine? tease/mate… mate? mate/Jazz)_. 

Smokescreen, Duster and Blowout _(intruders! territory/breech MINE! BACK OFF! mate/stay mine/forever? danger! must protect…)_. 

Waking from the sedative and following the trail to Praxus _(mate/Jazz? taken! track/retrieve trail/stop/lost shiny/tower/familiar tower/intruders go/fast/find!)_. 

Finding Jazz again _(mate/Jazz! unharmed claim/mine trust den/safe?/rest)_.

Sorting through all of it made him realize that, instinct driven or not, the feelings he held for the other black and white mech were still the same as when his higher processes had been turned off. He trusted Jazz. He wanted to protect him. He liked the svelte racer’s build and the hidden strength beneath it, but he also was learning to love the sassy personality and sense of humor that came with it. 

He had realized with a bit of a jolt that he could easily, and happily, see them as conjunx.

And it was for that reason that he’d pursued a relationship with the blue visored mech.

He answered Ricochet while gazing at Jazz. “I care about him more than anything.”

Jazz gave him a bashful smile in return.

Abruptly, Ricochet’s glare flipped into a sly smile. “Good. Now ya can take us t’ lunch an’ tell us _all_ ‘bout yarself.”

Prowl boggled for a klik.

Jazz thumped his brother on the back of a shoulder strut as he passed him to stand next to Prowl. “Primus, Ric, give th’ bot space t’ vent would ya?”

Fortunately, Prowl recovered from the mech’s unexpected mood swing quickly and said smoothly, “I would be honored to join you for lunch.” Never let it be said he couldn’t think quickly on his pedes.

“I was just about to go to lunch myself,” an infuriatingly smug voice said from behind him.

_No._

Prowl clasped Jazz’s servo and contemplated just running for it. A servo was clamped down on Prowl’s shoulder pauldron, anchoring him from enacting his idea. The mech’s other servo was similarly, if more gently, placed on Jazz’s shoulder. Jazz looked over in surprise.

Barricade smiled charmingly at the assembly from over Prowl’s shoulder. “I’m Prowlie’s older brother. I know a great place just down the street where we can all sit down and get to know each other.”

Ricochet’s visor glinted with keen interest, while Concord smiled serenely.

Only the Praxians could understand Prowl’s doorwing twitches that said, _I’m going to deactivate you and nobot will be able to find the body_.


End file.
